


Ω Resistance Ω

by FlyingLemonKitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco is Raised by the Tonkses, Nineties pop culture references, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Squib Draco Malfoy, Squibs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24008119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingLemonKitten/pseuds/FlyingLemonKitten
Summary: Draco didn't fit the description of a proper wizarding heir, on account of not being a wizard at all. Good thing being a Tonks didn't have a description.With the war brewing, Draco finally had the oppotunity to see the wizarding world up close, which would have been lovely if he weren't trying his best to stay out of trouble, for once.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	1. The Ceremony

When the baby was born, Narcissa Malfoy was saturated with love. He was almost sickly pale and screaming louder than most of the private healers were expecting, but as she held little Draco to her heart, she vowed to protect his happiness with every fibre of her soul, and nothing would ever get in her way. 

*

When Draco grew into a healthy one-year-old, who had still not grown out of his screaming phase, the ritual detection ceremony had been prepared, and healers were standing by to sort out any health issues as soon as possible. Narcissa and Lucius stood at the sidelines, watching the staff carefully weigh Draco, then check his mouth, eyes, heartbeat. So far so perfect. Carefully, Draco was placed on a raised platform in the centre of a complicated series of runes and circles engraved into the floor. A vial of blood was fed into the grooves, and soon the room was lit with the glow of diagnostic information floating in the air in the form of sigils.

“Yes, yes… I see no blood curses inherited from either side, excellent..”

The head healer, an old but still very well muscled witch, was nodding approvingly as she sorted through the wash of light coming off the baby. Draco was laughing at the symbols and reaching upwards- Narcissa could see a coil of pink light that moved in time with her son’s giggles.

“Now, what's this… Oh, I- _ah._.. Let us visualise his core-”

Narcissa looked up at the change in tone. The head healer was directing a wand movement that her assistants followed, eyes sharp. The floating sigils began to flow into one image, directly above Draco’s head. It was a white ball of light that ought to have been shining like the sun but-

Lucius stood up in alarm. “What is that? Healer Meidrim-”

“Lord Malfoy, this is not a cause for distress until we know what-”

“Do not _dare_ tell me that! What is wrong with his magic!?”

Narcissa stood up, a frozen sort of panic stuck in her gut. She held onto her husband’s arm, trying to calm him before he disrupted the healers from their flurry of casting over the image above the baby.

Narcissa remembered Regulus’ ceremony, his core glowing brightly and sparking out magic in a rhythm only Regulus himself would ever understand. She remembered Bellatrix whoop with excitement during her second ceremony, when she came of age, watching her powerful energy centre shoot spirals of indigo and violet from above her.

Draco’s ball of light was only visible as a dim glow from within a near-opaque beige sphere. It looked crusted and crudely formed, like a wasp’s nest around her son’s magical core.

It was not supposed to look like that.

“My Lord, your son’s magic is being blocked by some sort of internal shield. The composition suggests his own magic created it, possibly before birth, and it has had a lot of time to settle-”

“And whose fault was THAT!” Lucius roared nonsensically, eyes wild. From behind him, Draco had begun to cry.

“This sort of thing can’t be prevented,” said the healer. She looked grim, ignoring the threatening air from Lucius, who was about four times her junior. “Sometimes, the soul detects a threat against itself and becomes protective, forming a barrier. There could be some kind of magical virus that threatens the core with depletion or overload, and the core’s response is to form a barrier so strong that it becomes unbreakable. Sometimes the barrier forms for no discernable reason at all. My Lord, I am sorry, with the way this barrier formed, there is nothing anyone can do to break it without killing your son.” She said all this to Lucius, but her eyes were on Narcissa’s frozen face.

The last few spells were being cast by healers who snuck glances at the Malfoys between incantations. Lucius appeared to be shaking with rage, or fear. Narcissa waited like a statue until the runes on the floor faded, and then swept the still sniffling Draco into her arms.

She turned to the healer. "This barrier. It won't dissipate on its own?”

Healer Meidrim’s posture eased, and she looked tired. “Lady Malfoy, I know you have read much on the subject of child cores. This is no brief magic block and it will not go away on its own. You must understand, he won’t have access to his magic like this. Believe me, the whole world has been trying to solve this for millennia, but no one has ever found a cure for a squib-”

_“NO, I WILL NOT HAVE THAT WORD SPOKEN!!”_

“Lucius!” Narcissa’s composure was close to cracking.

“ _No! I will not have it!_ Malfoys do not produce squibs! My firstborn is _not a- a-”_

“My Lord, you have no choice but to accept this! Your son-”

“I HAVE NO SON!” Lucius bellowed, frightening the baby into another round of tears. Narcissa stared at her husband, mouth open. She bounced Draco in her arms.

Lucius turned from the healer to his wife. “The pregnancy failed,” he said. “We lost him. And you’ve spent the last year recovering.”

Pureblood families often hid their children from the public until they had been confirmed healthy and magical. The only sign, to the outside world, that Narcissa had been pregnant at all was the break from social climbing, which had stirred up the gossip mill, but ultimately confirmed nothing.

Private healers were sworn to secrecy, and family members knew better than to speak a word.

*

When Narcissa had first held her child, she had made a vow. She watched the baby in the cot, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the galaxies spinning over his crib, and she loved him so much it hurt.

Since the ritual, Lucius hadn’t come to see their son. He locked himself in his study and didn’t leave for three days. Then he came out and told her he had tracked down a distant squib lineage and planned to foist Draco on them and never look back.

It should go without saying, but Narcissa punched him so hard he bled. Then, she picked up Draco, apparated away, and for the first time in more years than bore thinking, went to find Andromeda Tonks.


	2. The Handover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = POV change

Andromeda Tonks hadn’t seen Narcissa Malfoy for a decade when she arrived at her doorstep, with a baby so pale she would have thought it was exsanguinated if it hadn’t been wailing. Narcissa was bouncing it and speaking hushed words as much as she could while standing ramrod straight and trying not to move her mouth. 

“We're gonna invite her in then?” came Ted’s voice by her ear. They were both peering through the window, staring at the blonde woman outside like two overgrown children, but Andromeda didn’t quite know what else to do. 

“How does she know where we  _ live _ ?” she hissed at her husband, frowning at the woman outside. The baby was grabbing at her hair now, but Narcissa apparently didn’t want to lose a face off against the door, and was ignoring it. Andromeda wondered if she felt silly, or if making her stand there with a baby was the sillier position. 

“Looks like it might rain soon,” Ted noted. 

“Do you think she might leave?” Andy asked hopefully. 

“She’s not made of sugar, she won’t dissolve” he retorted. “If she tracked us all the way here I don't reckon she’ll give up for a bit of water.”

“Still, if we pretend we aren’t home?”

“Lights are on.” 

“If we pretend she’s got the wrong house?”

“And send her off to haunt someone else’s hearth? Bit mean, innit?” 

“That baby looks like it doesn't have any blood!” Nymphadora piped up, and both adults jumped.

“Nymphadora! You’re supposed to be in bed!” Andromeda exclaimed. Nymphadora scrunched up her face and tugged sheepishly at her nightdress. 

“But you stopped making all the noise you usually make and it was suspicious! And anyway, I’ve seen the ghost lady now, you can’t hide the truth!” 

Ted put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, “You’ve been watching too many detective shows, Dora. And neither of them are ghosts.”

“Really? Not even the dead baby?”

“It’s not dead!” Andromeda huffed. She pushed away from the window and squared her shoulders. “This is getting ridiculous! What are we doing, playing hide-and-seek? How old am I? Actually, don’t answer that! I’m going to let her in,” she declared, and strode towards the door. Dora and Ted both gave a little cheer. 

*

Narcissa blinked when the door was flung outwards with too much energy and gripped Draco harder. In the doorway stood Andromeda, looking a little bit pink. “Sorry about that,” she muttered. “Narcissa. Come in.”

Narcissa took a silent breath and stepped into the house. The sitting room was painted white-pink, with light, robust wooden furniture. It looked homely and inviting; there was a scuffed violin in one corner, a great many photographs on the mantelpiece, and someone here was clearly far too into amateur pottery.

Now out from under the darkening clouds, Draco had stopped crying and was looking around the room curiously. Narcissa heard the sound of footsteps scurrying up the stairs as she sat on a soft brown sofa. 

Andromeda disappeared for a moment into what must have been a kitchen; the sound of a rapidly heating kettle emanated from it. 

Narcissa took the quiet moment to gather her thoughts. Finding her sister had been challenging enough, but she had many friends in many places- enough to follow the paper trail from Edward Tonks’ work history to his home address. 

Now she was here, the evidence of the life her sister had made for herself without them felt like something heavy in her stomach. Evidence of a child in the pictures, scattered clothes and toys; a child Narcissa had not even known about. Narcissa hadn’t told Andy about Draco either. 

They hadn’t exchanged wedding invitations or birthday cards, they hadn’t taken each other shopping or dancing or even sent a single letter. For the longest time, she’d felt bitter regret that her sister had run away, had let herself be brainwashed by a mudblood, but the time for bitterness seemed far away in this moment. 

Replaced was a thrumming desperation, a frantic hope that the girl Narcissa used to know would still remember that they had once been best friends. She hoped that despite everything, Andromeda would listen to her now. 

Sitting in this well-loved house, she tried to relax. She hadn’t been entirely sure of any reception, let alone a positive one. 

Andromeda came back with two clay mugs of tea floating behind her. Narcissa accepted hers with a muttered thanks and they sat facing each other, looking away. 

*

“Narcissa.”

“Andromeda.” Narcissa looked up. “You look well.”

“You look-”  _ well _ ,  _ somewhat terrible,  _ Andy thought. Narcissa was drawn and pale and tired. She didn’t seem any more comfortable inside than she had out in the cold. “Look- is everything okay? Ten years, I don’t think you’ve suddenly come round for tea, Cissy.” 

A look of regret flashed across her face for a moment before she busied herself with Draco in her arms. “.. A lot has happened in ten years.”

“I heard Lucius skipped Azkaban.” 

“Let’s not start with that-”

“Why not? It’s true.” Honestly Andy didn’t want to start here either, but she just couldn’t take tea with a woman who put a war between them and pretend nothing happened. 

“I’m not here to defend him. But- you’re hardly blameless Andromeda! You rejected us-”

“No, Cissy. There were good reasons for my leaving. Our family rejected me for wanting  _ love _ . Just because they  _ needed  _ to carry on with their hatred? I would have stayed if you’d only let me-!”

“You’d call your own family  _ hateful _ ?”    
“Your husband is a  _ murder _ !” Andromeda cried, outraged. 

“Ladies?” Ted asked with a little knock on the wall. The sister’s heads snapped towards him in unison and he held up his hands. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but the little one’s looking a bit peaky,” he indicated to Draco, who was looking between the women, holding back tears. 

When Narcissa looked back down at him and loosed her arms, he started crying in earnest. Conversation temporarily over, Andromeda stood and awkwardly offered to look for a snack for the baby. Narcissa nodded distractedly. 

*

Internally she berated herself for falling into that old argument with her sister. She was supposed to be asking for help, not rehashing an unwinnable fight. Draco had been crying for most of the two days they’d been at the Zabini’s (Narcissa trusted Zaira’s discretion in all things) while Narcissa avoided her husband and tracked down her sister .

Ted sat down across from Narcissa, looking at the baby with a little smile. “Spitfire he is,” he said. “Our little girl was the same. Plus, she could imitate the foxes outside pitch-perfectly. Did my head in, I’ll tell you that!”

Narcissa didn’t know what a Spitfire was but she nodded politely anyway. She hadn’t spoken to a muggleborn on purpose since Hogwarts. The man in front of her was sturdy, with blond-brown hair. He seemed distinctly working class, but Narcissa knew he worked as a Runic Translator.

*

“So. “ Ted started again when it was clear he would get no further answer. “... What do you do then? For a living, I mean.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. He already had some idea of what independently wealthy purebloods did, but conversation had to start somewhere. 

“I am a lady of society,” Narcissa said demurely. “I handle the accounts and the households. Correspondence keeps me busy for much of the day. I hear you work in the historical sector?”

“Yes, I translate runes- mostly on artefacts, you know. To decode whatever runic enchantments are on them before they’re fiddled around with- but I do sometimes go on the odd field research trip, recording old scriptures and the like. “ 

“How intriguing.”

“Thank you. I'm a real Indiana Jones,” he said, and then regretted it quite quickly afterwards. 

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with this  _ Indiana Jones _ .” 

“Oh, right, sorry- there was this film you see, came out earlier this year- hang on, I should mention that a film is a-  _ well, uh- _ ” 

Thankfully Andromeda took this moment to reappear with the baby’s requirements and a bowl of biscuits, which she loudly announced to the room. Ted eyed the biscuits and smiled at Narcissa as if to say  _ wow, biscuits,  _ which quite clearly did not impove their relationship at all.  


*

“Here, Narcissa-” Andy awkwardly handed her a bowl of sliced pear and apple. Draco finally perked up and stopped sniffling, making grabby hands at the bowl until it was floated within his reach. Ted took a biscuit. Narcissa turned so as not to look at him, and focused on her sister.

“Thank you, Andromeda. And you were right,” Narcissa confessed. 

“Is that so?”  _ That your husband is a murderer? _ Andy thought confusedly. 

“Yes. I haven’t come round for tea. I’m here about my son. Draco.” 

_ “Draco,” _ Andromeda echoed. “You kept to the old traditions, then. He looks healthy,” she offered, watching Draco chase the apple slices around the bowl while ignoring the pear ones. “How old?”

“One.” Something in Narcissa’s face changed at the word ‘ _ healthy’ _ . “We… had our first Seeing Ceremony not one week ago.” 

“Oh?,” Andromeda had a sudden sinking feeling. Her husband looked at her askance, and she whispered, “It’s essentially a health check-up but with an in depth look at your magic. You can nip inherited magical maladies in the bud, find out if you have any proclivities towards certain skills or conditions- like Dora’s metamorphmagy.” 

“The Seeing Ceremony can visualise your core. Your  _ soul _ . It should look like a ball of light, glowing or flashing whichever colours live within you.” Narcissa swallowed, and looked to her son. She was silent then, for long enough that Andy and Ted shared a foreboding glance. “ _ Draco’s _ was crusted over. He had no light.”

Andy and Ted stared in dismay. 

“The healer said my son has no magic. Whatever did develop is trapped inside him, unreachable. Lucius wasn’t happy.” 

“... What did Lucius do?” Andy asked in a low voice. 

“He… My husband has already arranged to pawn off our child to perfect strangers. He would like me to pretend Draco was never born. A Miscarriage. Just a  _ miscarriage _ , and now I am to lose him to nameless squibs, and be grateful and silent about it.  _ Grateful _ , to never see my  _ son  _ again!” Narcissa spat out viciously. “He threw him away, Andy! Just like that, the child we doted on for a whole  _ year _ , that I carried within me for all those months before- he means  _ nothing  _ to that man!” 

Andy watched in astonishment as Narcissa started to draw in ragged breaths and raise her reddening face to the ceiling. This was what Cissy used to do as a girl, to avoid the tears falling from her eyes. Her stomach flipped at the memory, now paired with a newfound rush of disgust for Lucius Malfoy.

She got up, walked around the table, sat next to her younger sister and hugged her. It was the first embrace they’d shared in decades. Baby Draco sat between them, looking between the two women. 

There was  _ absolutely nothing _ wrong with him, Andy thought. Lucius’ response to having squib for a son didn’t surprise her in the slightest, but that didn’t make her any less angered by it. They _ could  _ have raised him, but society’s impressions were too important for Malfoys and Blacks. Andy imagined her own family tapestry, imagined the burnt hole her place on it must have become after she left. Draco probably hadn’t lasted long enough to be stitched onto it at all.

The hug ended when Narcissa disentangled herself to adjust the baby. Andy stood up and sat next to Ted again.

“What are you going to do, then? Leaving him will be difficult, but we can help you-” 

“I am not leaving him,” Narcissa interrupted. 

Andy opened her mouth to exclaim something, likey akin to  _ why the hell not _ , but Ted laid a hand on her arm. He gave her a grim look and whispered “Pick your battles. I have a feeling I know why she’s here.” 

Andy reluctantly acquiesced, and squeezed his hand. The reason for her sister’s appearance was indeed beginning to become clear. 

“Andromeda. You know I would not ask you this if it were not crucial to me. But it is. Please consider, I will help you as much as I can, but the only way I will be able to see my son again is if he is with you. I trust  _ family  _ to raise  _ family _ , Andy. Please.”

“Narcissa-”

“You mentioned a little girl,” Narcissa interrupted, her fingers curling around Draco’s body. She had a strained tone, like desperation was fighting tooth and claw to rise to the surface, and she could no longer hold it back. “You know how to raise a child. Please, Andromeda-”

“Wait a minute, Narcissa you can’t just hand over a child without any notice!” Andy held up her hands in exasperation. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but it was making her palms sweaty. 

Ted put his hand on her shoulder and indicated to the kitchen. Nacissa watched the exchange, nodded, and looked back down to her son.

Andy stood and Ted followed her into the kitchen, putting up a privacy charm.    
  


“Well, this is a lot to unpack,” he whispered.

Andy let out a frustrated huff, finally looking away from her sister and the white-haired baby. 

This morning her world had been just as it had been for a decade- hectic, wonderful, sisterless. Now she was being asked to raise a  _ son. _

They could do it, she was quite certain. They had an extra room, currently used for her’s and Dora’s pottery creations, but clay could be eased off the ceiling with some choice spells, furniture brought back down from the attic. Dora hadn’t ever stopped  _ wanting  _ a sibling, just stopped expecting one. 

Ted would say yes, she knew. If he thought this was a ridiculously  _ bad  _ idea, not just a ridiculous idea, he would have said so. But he was quiet, thinking it through himself. Knowing him, probably mentaly budgeting a two-child lifestyle already. He’d always had a soft spot for kids and animals. They’d been thinking of getting a dog. 

_ I’m getting ahead of myself! _ She thought angrily. Why was she thinking as though the decision were made? Why couldn’t Narcissa raise her own child, to hell with his magic? With Draco in their lives, his mother would visit them. Did Andy  _ want  _ that? She was a Tonks now; her old family had turned their back on her for disgust of her love. Narcissa had said nothing against them then- but they had been girls. Had she changed? 

No. She had married Lucius Malfoy, a conniving, stuck up blood purist- a  _ Death Eater _ . Arranged marriages were not uncommon in their circles, but Andy knew her sister; if Narcissa had truly objected to the pairing, the wedding would not have proceeded. Now that same man had the gall to throw away Narcissa’s  _ first child _ . What Andy could not understand is that Narcissa would  _ still  _ return to him,  _ still  _ keep her position as his wife rather than be with her own son. 

Andy had revoked her place in the pureblood world for love, but her sister would not.  _ Maybe she doesn't deserve love,  _ Andy thought venomously.  _ Let her live with that snake. _   


… Those thoughts were not constructive. No matter her feelings for her sister, that little boy was her nephew. He was innocent in all this. Cast out, just like her. He had his father’s colouring, but the shape of those eyes, his cupid’s bow, the tenacity of those lungs… Reminded her of Dora. It would be difficult, raising a little boy, but… She knew instinctively, if she took Draco in, she would love him.   


“I don’t see- fuck, I mean-  _ ugh _ ,” she put her hands over her face for a second before dropping them and headbutting Ted’s shoulder. “So, we’re taking the baby aren’t we.”

Ted said nothing for a moment as he settled his arms around his wife, but then Andy felt the rumble of his chest and heard the smile in his voice as he said, “that quickly huh?” 

“Well, this is certainly going to ruin our lifestyle- and we  _ did  _ say no more kids- but she would never choose  _ us _ if she had another choice. And a baby’s a baby, Ted.” 

“A baby  _ is _ a baby,” he agreed happily. “We sold the crib five years ago.”

“Cissy’s loaded, Ted. I’m not getting nothing out of this if I can help it,” she joked, pulling herself out of Ted’s arms. She steeled herself for a discussion about logistics; they had to be serious now.

*

Narcissa watched them enter the kitchen, their voices obscured by a bubble of magic. 

She didn’t want false hope, but she couldn’t steel herself against the blossoming relief in her stomach. It was almost enough to smile. 

Andromeda wasn’t a closed book like Narcissa; her emotions always played out on her face. Her eyebrows were especially emotive- the way they’d twitched together, with a tiny incremental rise, complemented by pursed lips as she’d headed for the kitchen- that was the face of a girl who, against her better judgement, knew she was going to give into whatever ridiculous request a cousin or sister was throwing at her. 

_ Yes _ , Narcissa thought,  _ it was enough to smile.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indiana Jones came out in June, 1981, which is convinient because I wrote that mention of it in and then thought "hang on, let me check that he existed back then"- and luckily he did. 
> 
> BTW this is set in early December (1981) because Voldy dies on Halloween, the Seeing Ceremony is in late November and I'm just gonna say for fanfic's sake that the trial of "imperio'd victim", Lucius Malfoy was already out of the way within weeks of Halloween because they were rushing to capture the violent Death Eaters, and Lucius has enough friends and money to step neatly out of the way of the post war hullabaloo.
> 
> Let me know if you have an idea for a plotline for this because honestly I started it to write about squib!Draco and his cool older sister, with some tie-in around book 5 where he stays at Grimmauld Place, and a few more scenes where he would fit in. Let me know what you think so far!


	3. The Childhood

Draco’s earliest memories were understandably quite foggy. He remembered a pale woman and a paler man, and being fussed on, but the only concrete thing he could picture from his time at the Manor was one shot of a blue wall that had painted snow falling across it, accompanied by a soothing woman’s voice and the feeling of being rocked to sleep. 

Every other memory took place in the hectic four bedroom house in a residential district of Greenwich with his mum, dad and older sister. 

He loved it there, even if the house sometimes felt rather nonsensically claustrophobic, as though it should be bigger, and even if his big sister was a whole eight years older than him.

Tonks was a lively girl, going into her fifth year at Hogwarts when Draco was seven. She constantly ruffled his hair and played football with him in the garden, and always volunteered to scoop the ball out of their muddy little pond whenever Draco accidentally kicked it in because she felt bad for once convincing him that the frogs inside would eat him up. 

Draco’s dad was called Ted, and while they didn’t look much alike, they were similar in excitability when it came to Disney and adventure movies. His mum, Andromeda, was cheeky like him, and always kept herself busy with little odd jobs. She taught Draco French, and how to play the piano. Draco found he had a talent for song all by himself though, and also a talent for sneaking up behind people and shrieking.

Sometimes, a pale haired lady would visit the house. 

She never said much about herself, but she would ask Draco questions about _him_ , like if he had friends, if he was being good, what he was interested in. Draco liked answering questions about himself, and invariably, the woman would provide some sort of present before she left. Usually it was sweets, or some toy he’d mentioned in passing at her last visit.

He got the feeling that the woman and his mum didn’t get along very well, because Andromeda never smiled at the lady like she usually did with guests, and they only ever asked each other the same stiff questions like _how are you faring_ , and no one ever laughed. It was disconcerting, but Draco got presents out of it, and sometimes the lady would look at him in such a way that his chest would close up with some sort of strange longing, and he would tentatively ask her when she would come to see him again. Then he would get his only smile from the whole affair, and a light embrace before she stepped outside and disapparated. 

It was after Tonks had left for Hogwarts that year that it occurred to him to ask his mother who that lady was. Andromeda had said her name, Narcissa, and that she was family, but Draco wanted to know what _type_ of family. He'd pestered her for several days even though it seemed to make her frown. One day, Draco overheard his parents talking about it in the kitchen while Draco tried to sneak some biscuits. 

"He's never shown much of an interest in knowing about her before... I haven't asked Narcissa what to tell him..." 

"He's old enough to understand, surely? I've never had to break something like this to someone before... How do you tell your kid he's not, you know-"

"Tell me what?" Draco had jumped out and demanded, thoroughly startling the pair.

The pleasure of the jumpscare turned out to be short-lived, because Ted and Andromeda had brought him over to the sofa to sit between them two of them, and proceeded to explain to him that his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had given him to them when he was very little. Had _.. had given him... away..._

Draco spent a lot of time mulling that over. He had cried a little at first, and been immediately swooped upon with hugs and kisses and proclamations of love until he was laughing, but he kept thinking on it for weeks while tucked into bed. His parents weren't really his parents, but they did love him. _They_ wouldn't give him away, absolutely _not_ , because the very idea was enough to make him cry, so he refused on principle to think about it. 

The pale lady- his _original_ mother, had become white-lipped and fragile-looking when he had confronted her with the news at Christmas. But she had nodded, and told Draco that she had given him to Andromeda and Ted not out of lost love, but for his own protection against a man who had wanted him out of the way. It made Draco feel a little less like that cat from Oliver & Company, who had nearly drowned in an adoption box, and more like the princess in Sleeping Beauty who had been sent to live with fairies so Maleficent couldn’t kill her with a spinning wheel, but the comparison seemed to go straight over Narcissa’s head when he had explained it to her. Draco told her it was a sign that they would have never done well as a family unit if she didn’t even know Disney, and that had made the woman let out a very choked laugh, and then excuse herself to the bathroom immediately. 

Unlike the revelation about his mother, Draco had always known he wouldn’t be going to Hogwarts. Since he could remember, he had been told gently that Tonks went to magic school because some people were magic, but Draco was not. It had made sense because Tonks could change her hair and face whenever she wanted, so it was clear she was magical. Draco couldn’t do that, no matter how hard he tried. Andromeda could make the kitchen scrub itself, and make the ironing fold itself, and Draco couldn’t do those things either. Ted brought home contraptions that he would cast spells over to make them do marvelous things, or make his shoes jump onto his feet when he was in a hurry. It was fine, Draco already knew that everyone from primary school wasn’t magical, so it wasn’t just him. 

It made him feel like crying, nonetheless. 

It made Tonks flip-flop between being excited about Hogwarts and awkwardly sympathetic to Draco every August, while Draco went into a rotten sulk from then til October. Andromeda always tried to cheer him up with outings and ice cream, but every year it felt more real. He wasn’t a wizard like his family and all of their friends. No furtive hoping or trying to squeeze out some magic ability was going to make a jot of difference in the end. He was different, but it didn’t make him special. 

When he was eleven, he was sent to a fancy private school. Narcissa showed up much less as he grew older, but he knew she’d apparently paid the schooling fee for him, even if, _clearly_ , he wasn’t worth the time it took to apparate in for a chat. 

He had to make new friends because most of his primary school friends had gone to the state school. It was difficult at first because he was sullen about the unshakeable proof of his squib status- the lack of a Hogwarts letter. He’d tried to look unconcerned around his parents, but then Ted had given him one hug and it had all come spilling out in a tearful deluge; how he’d read all of Tonk’s school books and hoped he might figure out how to make magic happen from them, but nothing had ever happened and he felt _wretched_. 

That had made Ted and Andromeda cry as well, and they’d all ended up on the sofa together and had cake and watched 101 Dalmatians. Draco realised they all had very similar coping strategies when Ted burst out that he hadn’t received a promotion, so they’d just queued up Indiana Jones and made some more cake. 

All in all, school life improved once Draco had settled into a few friendships. He was the funny one in class, who had a loud comment for everything, but the teachers let him get away with a lot because he was smart. He loved music, didn’t like English, and joined the gymnastics and football clubs. He made a boy called Travis cry by spreading the worst rumours he could think of after Travis had called him gay for talking to girls. He didn’t know if he liked the way it made him feel, but, unnervingly, he couldn’t say he _disliked_ it. He thought of the way Tonks would rage against bullying when she was at home. She was a Hufflepuff, but Draco didn’t think _he_ would have been one, if _he’d_ gone to Hogwarts. He didn’t think about her while he spat secret, vicious things at Travis at every opportunity until he looked scared and pathetically trampled. He thought of her afterwards, though. He also thought Travis should be very grateful for Tonks, because without her, Draco wondered how far he would have taken it.

The summer before year 10 was peculiar for Draco because it signaled Andromeda’s descent into madness- she banned him from playing _football_. Despite his ranting and pleading that a fourteen-year-old boy needed football like she needed bad pottery to get through the week, his aunt/mother would not budge. He spent a lot of that year being bored out of his mind, forbidden to go anywhere after school for some _stupid_ reason, and playing his guitar as loudly as he could in protest. Tonks had started Auror training the previous year and seemed to be confining herself to the house too because she stopped going out with friends as often as she used to. Tonks told Draco it was because a killer was on the loose, and he watched her update the wards with some complicated spells her Auror mentor had taught her. 

Draco was finally let in on the apparent family secret when Andromeda sat him down next to Tonks and told them that Sirius Black, the man in the papers, was her cousin. Apparently, their family was full of murderers and crazy people. Tonks didn’t look very surprised, probably because she was allowed to be part of the _wizarding world_ , while _Draco_ had to wait to be told things as an afterthought.

When the criminal-enforced curfew suddenly ended next summer, along with Andromeda’s general anxiety, Draco was again beset with resentment on having been kept out of the loop for so long, but apparently Black was innocent now. He was still being advertised as a killer on the TV and the Daily Prophet, but Draco was allowed to live like a normal teenager again, and his aunt was beaming about it. Tonks kept giving her knowing looks, and he watched Ted give his wife a little twirl as she said “I knew he couldn’t have done it!” in the kitchen. Nobody told Draco exactly _why_ he was innocent, apparently it was a government secret or something. _Ugh_.

Draco’s teenage misery only waned when he was given a brand new electric guitar as an apology present for being kept cooped up. He took the opportunity to blast it as loudly as possible, and also snuck it into the school music club and broke the speakers (and ran home before anyone spotted him at the crime scene). 

By the end of year 10, Draco was having a much better time. He was taking French, technology, music and science, he had ‘dated’ a girl for a whole three months (she’d thought his electric guitar was very cool), he was on the school football team, he was discovering his sexuality, _and_ the family even went to France for a weekend to see Elton John for his birthday. 

Then out of nowhere, criminal-curfew slammed back into gear before Draco knew it. Gone were his complicated summer plans with his friends, his vague thoughts on forming a band or finding another date. But this time, the outraged protests died in his throat at the gaunt look of _dread_ on Andromeda’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Draco is an angsty music kid, is my point. This is the last serious introduction chapter, the next one is not going to be in the same speedthrough format, it'll be more like chapter 2. 
> 
> Draco's not all teenage hormones, I just wanted to emphasise that he feels left out of a world he's on the outskirts of. The reason Draco isn't as involved with the magical world as other squibs is because everyone is being overly cautious, which of course is very frustrating for our boy.
> 
> Anyway, I had to check Elton John's tour dates for this, and when those disney movies came out. Elton John actually had a Europe tour for 15 countries and surprisingly not the UK that year. The France venues were Zenith de Nancy and Disneyland, so you can imagine which one the Tonkses booked.


	4. The Housing Situation

“We’re taking you somewhere _safe_ , Draco.” 

“Might be safer if you told me literally anything about _anything_ ,” Draco complained as Andromeda sent his belongings flying into suitcases. 

“Yes, well, the location is secret, and the details of the situation are up in the air right now,” she huffed as Draco groaned and buried his face in the duvet. “Oh yes, you’re so hard done by,” she cooed sarcastically. 

_Well I am!_ Draco thought mutinously. He’d been ushered into the kitchen and sat down, heart sinking because being sat down for a serious conversation never ended well. And he was of course proven right when Andromeda revealed that He Who Must Not Be Named had returned from the dead and now Draco had to live with the mad criminal from last year’s police reports. 

It probably wouldn’t be too terrible considering Andromeda was coming with him, and apparently he’d be seeing a lot of Tonks, but he couldn’t help having a fondness for luxuries such as _electrical outlets_ and _the radio_. 

A pause in the flight of belongings made Draco peek up from the duvet. Andromeda had stopped her packing, looking suddenly torn. She moved across the room to sit at the end of the bed.

“Look, I know we’ve been.. Reticent with information with you Draco, but you need to understand that, what with everything going on… We’ve got a target on our backs. _You’ve_ had a target on your back specifically for quite some time. Last year, when Sirius escaped, we were worried that he might... Try to hurt you. While it’s not common knowledge that you’re our son, people still whisper. We thought Sirius was here to finish what he started, and we didn’t know if that meant he’d come for you after he tried to kill Harry Potter.” 

Draco sat up reluctantly. “... Why would he go for me?”

“We thought he was a Death Eater, so with our family being blood traitors and you being a squib, he could have sought us out.” 

_Of course, me being a squib comes with so many fun features,_ Draco thought. “And you couldn’t have told me this _last_ year?” he asked, stomach squirming at the thought of a murderer coming after him. 

Andromeda grimaced, gleaning his discomfort without him saying anything. “We didn’t want to scare you. Now now- don’t give me that face. Would it have really helped if we said ‘ _Draco, that murderer on TV? He’s not just a general threat, he’s actually specifically a threat to_ you _, so you can’t play football anymore_.’ You already weren’t impressed knowing he was your cousin, I doubt you would have appreciated knowing he might be coming to kill you.”

Draco pursed his lips. She wasn’t _wrong_ . He _had_ fared a lot better just being angry about missing extracurriculars, not scared the house was an _actual_ target for a Death Eater. “Whatever,” he relented. “This is still a terrible course of action.” 

Andromeda smiled, relieved. “Tough luck,” she said, winking at him. Draco’s stuff regained flight capacity and began packing themselves away once more. 

*

Draco wandered downstairs just as Ted wandered in through the front door, looking deep in thought. “Alright, dad?” 

“Draco! Good timing, I need you to read this,” he said, and handed Draco an address slip. 

“... _Grim_ \- _old_ place? Is it gothic at the very least?” He asked, scanning the paper. 

“Eighteen hundreds, I think. Late Georgian?” 

“Gross. What’s the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Don’t go mentioning that outside of this house or Grimmauld place. It’s the resistance movement, established in the last war. Dumbledore runs it. Have you finished packing?” 

“Mum won’t let me help. She said I can’t bring my electric guitar!” 

“No electricity, son. You’ll have to slum it with the acoustic,” Ted said sadly, walking into the living room. There were a dozen boxes of old parchment on the floor and he started rifling through them. 

“Yes, but can’t you do something to it so it runs on magic?” Draco needled him, but to no avail. He loudly huffed, but when even that didn’t tear Ted away from his very important papers, Draco trailed away to brood. 

With Andromeda packing so that he couldn’t drag his feet about it, Draco had nothing better to do than sit around and contemplate what was happening. He felt vaguely unmoored, everything was happening very fast and he was the only one just being swept along, without a task or a role. Mostly, he was putting that feeling off by being annoyed, but despite his best efforts, Draco couldn’t actually stay annoyed forever. 

He didn’t _want_ to spend the summer away from his friends, in a dirty old house full of war veterans carrying out resistance tasks and ignoring him and what not. But on the other hand, it would be the first magical household outside of his own that he’d get to visit. The Tonkses all had wizarding friends of course, but since Draco’s existence was supposed to be a secret, he’d never been to see them. Tonks had described Diagon Alley and Gringotts and Hogwarts to him before, but imagining wouldn’t be the same as actually _visiting_. Who knows, maybe this would be fun. 

*

Draco and Andromeda took the train to Islington under glamour spells. Andromeda’s changed her face and made her older, Draco’s made him a pouty, thick-browed brunette and he couldn’t stop staring at his distorted reflection in the train windows, trying to figure out if he looked handsome or stupid. Tonks was there too, rolling her eyes at him, metamorphed as a muggle businessman. 

As they approached the street, Draco thought back to the address slip and watched in awe as Number Twelve pushed its neighbours out of the way to stand proud in all its dilapidated glory. 

“Yikes,” Draco commented. 

“It used to look better than that,” said Andromeda immediately. 

“Glamours off, let’s go, we can talk more inside,” Tonks led the way in, tapping her wand on the door to unlock it. She entered first as Andromeda ended her spells and ushered Draco in. The interior was a dank hallway with old fashioned gas lamps flickering over the cobwebs and snake-themed furniture. 

“Yikes again,” Draco said, sauntering up to Tonks, “So does the house smell like Sirius Black or does Sirius Black smell like the house?” 

No sooner had he finished speaking when Tonks, frantically waving for quiet, knocked over an umbrella stand; immediately a pair of curtains further down the hall threw themselves 0pen, and Draco screamed in perfect time with the terrifying portrait of Walburga Black.

For the next few seconds there was quite a massive palava; Draco squeaked “shite!” and darted straight back to Andromeda who was yelling in confusion, Tonks kept repeating “sorry, sorry , whoops! Sorry-”, the portrait screamed, “FOUL INTRUDERS! TREACHEROUS SCUM-!” and a tall, thin man with long hair banged open a door, strutted out, snapped “Oh hang, you old bat!”, and promptly blasted a bright red spell at the portrait and wrenched her curtains shut. 

Everybody stopped panicking in the sudden quiet, except Tonks, whose foot was now stuck _in_ the umbrella stand, and she was hopping up and down trying to dislodge it. 

“Excuse me _,_ I _wash_ ,” said the man. Everyone stared at him quizzically.

“... I beg your pardon, Sirius?” asked Andromeda . 

Sirius Black groaned longsufferingly. “I wash! I don’t smell like the bloody house! I smell like _lemongrass._ Because I wash!” 

“I don’t know, does lemongrass really cut through the smell of wet dog?” came another voice from behind Sirius as Andromeda and Tonks both snorted. Draco was staring at Sirius, agape, as he groaned again and punched this new, more solid looking man on the arm. 

“Shut up Moony,” he said fondly. “Alright, brilliant entrance everyone, but I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen before the _bitch_ wakes up.”

Draco and Tonks both laughed as their mother spluttered _language!_ , and they all piled into the stone-bricked kitchen. Draco was starting to think this whole thing might not be an immediate bust. 

*  
  


The kitchen was cleaner than the hall, at least. Draco wasn’t too sure about the sound the pipes made when the man called Remus Lupin filled the kettle, but running water was always a plus. 

“So,” Sirius said after they’d all settled down and the adults had shook hands and made tea. “Nice to see you again, Andy. Been a lonely few weeks between company. And Tonks! I’ve missed you. Not as much as Remus, but still.” 

Remus coughed into his teacup abruptly. “I have not! Erm- that is to say I _have_ missed you Tonks, the usual, _normal human_ amount,” he amended awkwardly, looking pink. 

Draco leaned into Tonks’ personal space as she chuckled and stage whispered “Stranger _danger_ Tonks! We’ve been through this! Don’t get in the van no matter what!” 

Tonks squawked like a seagull and pushed him half off his chair, knocking over her teacup along the way while Andromeda, torn between laughing, threatening Remus and admonishing Draco, just did all three at once while Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and scooted his seat along to clap Draco on the back. 

“I think I like you,” he told him. “You remind me of me when I was your age, I never learned to shut up either.” 

“Thanks?” Draco replied, pulling himself upright. Sirius Black was an enigma to Draco. He looked like he’d seen better days, but he definitely _had_ washed and cut his hair recently, compared to his wanted poster. He’d looked sort of glum- or maybe just tired- the whole time, until he’d laughed, and then he had briefly transformed into a younger, happier man with a sharp sense of humour. Draco made a mental note to make him laugh more, alongside his other mental note to tease Tonks mercilessly about whatever nonsense was going on between her and the moustached man who was currently trying to appease Andromeda’s raised eyebrows of doom. 

“Don’t mention it. Maybe you ‘ll break up the monotony around here, what with you moving in. Speaking of, you should probably know that this place is absolutely riddled with vermin and dust, so watch out for both. Any room I’ve locked is a room we haven’t cleared, so don’t try opening anything.”

“That’s… distressing and off-putting. What do you mean ‘clear out’? I suppose by ‘vermin’ you mean something worse than rats?” Draco recalled the time Andromeda had had enough of trying to ward out mice so she’d just summoned the entire colony out of the floorboards, into a wheelie bin, and banished them to the nearby park. _This_ scenario didn’t sound quite as simple of a fix. 

“Doxies, creepy crawlies, cursed furniture, actual dust bunnies- they _live_ to trip you up- all sorts of things in dark corners, the usual.” He scowled, “that good-for-nothing House Elf hasn’t been a jot of help since we arrived, so it’s up to us.” 

“Leave Kreacher alone Sirius, he’s clearly had some kind of mental breakdown, cooped up here for a decade all alone,” Andromeda said. 

“I’ve been cooped up in _Azkaban_ and _I_ haven’t had a breakdown, have I?” 

Everyone seemed to pause for a split second and then actively decide to just nod along, so Draco didn’t point out that Sirius had in fact immediately gone on a murder rampage moment he escaped prison. “Anyway,” Draco piped up, “I’m not expected to help clear rooms, right? It sounds dangerous, and I am, after all, a mere, lowly, baby squib. I could die, you see-”

“Not so fast there, Baby Squid,” Tonks interrupted wryly, ignoring his offended gasp. "Some rooms might be dangerous, but you can more than handle a few doxies and dust bunnies. The adults will remove anything dangerous, and then the Child Brigade can come in to clean up. Don't worry, it won't just be you, when the Weasleys come you'll have plenty of people to attempt to boss around."

"Who are the _Weasleys_?" asked Draco, appalled. "I thought it would just be us lot and those two!" he jabbed a thumb at Sirius and Remus, who infuriatingly, both saluted.

"I told you, the details have been a bit up in the air, we weren’t sure if they would be coming or not, I’m getting confirmation right now just as you are," said Andromeda appeasingly.

"The Wealseys are good folk," Remus assured Draco. "Good fun to teach, and they've always been strong supporters of the Order. The family is staying here because it's safer for them that way. I believe one Hermione Granger will be joining us as well."

Draco frowned, trying to decide if company was a good thing or not. On one hand, being the only youth in a mausoleum of adults would be boring, but on the other, what if the Weasleys didn’t _like_ him? " _Ugh_ , fine, but I'm not sharing a room! Absolutely _not_."

"Room sharing will depend on how much cleaning you do!" Andromeda informed him happily. 

" _Ugh_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The note Harry got in the books to find Grimmauld Place is “The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.” So I’m giving Draco the same note, why not. Also, Grimmauld Place is described as Georgian on the Wikipedia page, and the buildings on the square they filmed at were built 1815 to 1828, right at the end of the Georgian architectural movement. Claremont square looks a lot better on Google Maps than it does in the OoTP movie. Maybe I’ll go visit when London isn’t riddled with plague.


End file.
